


Cloud Your Mind

by The_Shadow_King3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, star wars canon - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shadow_King3/pseuds/The_Shadow_King3
Summary: The Jedi teach to clear your mind...but for some, that is a lie. You must cloud your mind and only then can you deliver the most pain. That is what the Inquisitorius teaches its children, the Brothers and the Sisters. This is just a snapshot of one of those Brothers.





	Cloud Your Mind

There was only the breath. In and out, it went through the lungs of the male Mikkian, who knelt upon the short pedestal. His room was dark, his window covered in a projection of the stars to help him meditate. Endless, drifting space. Space had rules, order, laws that were followed. Everyone had to follow those rules. But some bent those rules, they sought to toy with space and be clever. Clever and tricky, and false to themselves. Like the rebels against the Empire. The anger slowly filled him. He let the time and place fall away, back into the past. 

“Give in to your hatred…” Those words echoed in his mind, those ringing words that had filled his ears as he had sat there on that floor. Dust had been all around him as he slumped against the workstation, holding an injector in his good, still present, hand, his lightsaber on the floor next to him. He remembered his naivete as he had replied, weak and defeated with a cough or two. 

“I wouldn’t...get even halfway...across the room...you’d kill me.” The other had stepped closer. 

“You are so certain...but not if you let your fear of death and your hatred of me power your actions…”

There was a chime and beneath his helm, the Third Brother opened his eyes, the right one with some difficulty due to the scar. His pedestal smoothly turned around and he sighed as he saw the Imperial Officer standing there nervously in the beam of light cutting into his darkness. His drone of a voice, slightly synthesized due to the device that interacted with his throat, drove through the air accusingly. 

“What is it, Captain Marens. I was meditating.” The young brown-haired, green-eyed man gulped audibly yet said in a calm tone “There are reports a...Jedi and rebels are attacking Hanger 12...Commander Rimes sent me to get you Inquisitor.” 

He considered the event for a moment. A Jedi here, on Mannan. The Imperial holdings here were the kolto mines and facilities for synthesizing new drugs and base healing supplies, along with the Imperial slavery operations of the native Selkath people. The second seemed a better target yet it was the hangar bay they attacked, where the kolto was shipped. He slowly rose to his feet. 

“I will be down there shortly, pull yourselves back and allow me to face this Jedi alone.” The officer nodded, saluted with a curt “Inquisitor.” And then was gone, closing the door and plunging the room back into darkness once more.

He returned his thoughts to anger after he raised the lights to retrieve his lightsaber before he began to march down the halls. Cadets and others moved out of his way as he strode past them, his black booted feet making quick time towards the lift. It was also probably how he appeared to them, as while he was short, he was still a sight to behold. His helmet sat on his head, it’s faceplate covering his damaged visage, hiding his yellowed eyes behind a visor that analyzed the world around him, granting him vision through it’s scopes. His black and grey body armor contained small marks and accents yet stood out from the sea of white stormtroopers and unarmoured officers. His robotic right hand hung loosely at his side, he barely felt it anymore but it was a bit bulky and a minor annoyance. His other hand was seamlessly fitted to his armored glove. Then there was of course his armored legs and those boots that marched down the hallway with great speed.

He remembered suddenly the speed at which he had lunged up and at that dark being in the old Republic base. The hate for the other and what he was to him then, a murderer, a stalker, a traitor. How he had so easily been disarmed due to his weak limb and hand, losing his blue lightsaber to a Force pull before being sent rolling back across the metal floor. The dust had hung like a light haze in the air due to this disturbance, leaving its old resting place on the metal floor. A metal floor like this one, in this facility, built above the waves of this watery world. 

“You gave in...how does it feel? I sense your fear, you fear your death…” The other’s red lightsaber had dragged across floor, hissing and cutting into the metal. It had lifted and he had felt its heat close to his tired, nearly limp head tendrils. 

“You don’t have to die…”

The lift pinged and the humanoid stepped out, turning his head at the sound of blaster fire, shouts and stormtrooper helmet communicators crackling beneath the armour, frantically talking back and forth as they fought the rebels. He sensed the pain, the ferocity of battle, like in the Clone Wars. So many people only remembered the droid armies, in their vast tens of thousands that rolled out of factories into battle. He had fought against living armies several times, such as on Umbara when he had been sent to defeat the local militia holding an outpost once the planet had fallen to the Republic. That had certainly been a hard fought battle. This one was minuscule compared to that one however, and far easier, at least to him it seemed. As he rounded the corner he saw, at the end of the short hallway, the Imperials pinned down. The durasteel door was half closed, meaning the defending Stormtroopers would have to have bypassed some system to make that happen but over top of this barricade, he sensed the desperation.

Several troopers were behind the door barricade along with a captain and an officer, desperately firing back at the rebels who seemed to have the better ground. A grenade had been tossed and the remains of its flash fire caused a plume of smoke to rise up. As he approached, the stormtrooper captain rushed over to him.

“Sir, the rebels and the Jedi are attempting to steal a shipment of kolto in our transport, there is one already in the cockpit and several at positions of advantage in the room. The Jedi has taken up a position to the right, behind those large containers, beyond the smoke.” The red skinned alien proceeded forward, reaching to his back and unhooking his lightsaber. This one was unlike his crude old one. This one possessed two blades, and it could spin if needed. It was far more versatile than anything the foolish Jedi had available to them in their time.

He vaulted over the door barricade, and mildly deflected the few shots people fired his way. However, that is when he sensed it. The fear. It filled these rebels, some were human, but the majority were Selkath or other alien races. Did they not see the chaos they caused? The disorder? The Imperial troops stopped firing as well and there was a silence as the Jedi slowly stepped out into view. The armoured Inquisitor instantly knew it wasn’t a Jedi. This Selkath had none of the same emotional calm of a Jedi, he didn’t wear the robes of the Jedi, and while watching him as he approached, the other alien’s handling of the blue blade in his hands was sloppy. The Inquisitor’s head tendrils, waving in the air, and the pants of the men and women from all sides, filled the space suddenly in the silence. He drank it in. Their fear. The Selkath shakily stood there, holding the blade up before him as the other alien came closer. 

He remembered how he himself had shaken as the red blade had left his head and he heard it deactivate. Then, a hand came down. He had looked up at the tall, terrifying figure above him. 

“You, you are so weak now...but do you see me?” He had only trembled in response. 

“I stand before you, strong and capable of restoring the one thing you really covet...order. Alignment, perfection, synchronicity...order.” The hand lay there. He had turned to look up at the other. Younger at the time, the Grand Inquisitor had radiated power, strength and most importantly to him, truth. He had been speaking truth, or so he felt.   
He had grabbed the hand that day and the other, taller being had smiled, saying “You shall be a Brother to so many…” So now the Third Brother, as he took a step forward, into the smoke of that long gone grenade, tightened his grip on the blade before he let his mind be clouded and started swinging.


End file.
